Palliation
by KESwriter
Summary: What happens when you need help from the person you humiliated and abused the most while in high school? Mike Davis finds out when his son is abducted and the BAU arrives. Now he must confront the face of his guilty conscience.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Criminal Minds.

Rated teen for references to abuse and nudity.

I planned on writing this as a one-shot but in the end thought it might have been a little too long to read in one sitting. As I wrote it, I realized it was more detailed compared to what I had envisioned.

Don't expect an overly-elaborate plot. This is not going to look like an episode from the show. It is a story written from a specific viewpoint. (And yes I know the tenses are a little all over the place as I don't have much experience writing in the present-tense.) I also know that it looks like a plot from an episode a few years ago, but I promise there are specific differences.

Reviews are welcome and ENCOURAGED!

Forgiveness

"There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance." Gilbert Parker

Chapter 1:

_I grab a piece of hair and fling it across his face. "Hasn't anyone told you you need a hair-cut Spency? You look like a girl," I said._

_The rest of the team laughs as Spencer bites his lip, trying not to cry. Nick Miles approaches him. "Yeah, Spency. We're actually doing you a favor. We're showing everyone that you really are a man," he says as he pulls a rope covering his middle. "Though not much of one," he says and lets it go with a snap. Spencer screams out in pain and bursts into tears. _

_Someone brought a couple six packs of beer and a CD player. We all sway to the music. It was like a party with a naked kid strapped to a goal post as opposed to a disco ball. This is much cooler in my opinion. Alexa goes over and touches Spencer's tear streaked-face and comments that it is "smooth as a baby's bottom," which gets huge roars of laughter._

_After my second beer I begin to feel dizzy. I lean up against the goal post hit Spencer in the chest. He yelps. "Please," he whimpers, "help me."_

_I look at him. He is looks terrified. Then in a flash his face changes. Streaks of blond hair are covering his face._

"Tyler!" I scream as I bolt forward in bed.

"Honey it was just a dream," my wife, my goddess, Sally says soothingly. She leans forward and rubs my shoulders. I brush her hands away as I stand up and begin to pace around the room. She checks the clock. "Mike it is 4:00 A.M. The cops told us we need to some sleep. We need to have clear heads to help with the investigation in the morning."

I continue to walk around our bedroom. "I can't believe I even agreed to this. Who knows what Tyler could be through while we are getting our 'beauty sleep'?"

Sally sighed. "We've been through this. He was taken before we got home from the show. There was nothing we could do that late at night. The cops told us that kidnappers don't make ransom demands after midnight."

I pull a curtain aside revealing one of the best views of the Vegas Strip in the city. It didn't comfort me as it usually does. "Why did we even go to that show? There's a kid killer on the loose. We should have stayed home!" I shout.

Sally suddenly stands up. "Mike, stop this!" Her voice cracks. "I feel terrible too!" She walks over and wraps her arms around me. "I thought we were safe. I thought no one could touch us from up here." She cries into my chest.

I hold her tightly and nuzzle her tresses of her golden hair. I feel a tear trickle down my face. She didn't know. I met Sally while playing football at USC. She couldn't possibly know that I feel Tyler's abduction was punishment for what I did to Spencer Reid.


	2. Chapter 2

Recap of my hiatus from writing this story: Needed CM detox that involved reading Jodi Picoult, cleaning, day-dreaming Glee fan fiction (ended thinking of a terrific Reid crossover but I'm on the fence about writing it as there isn't much review traffic in that section), and trying to read the Moneypenny Diaries (failed miserably on that one). And finally I just finished watching season six of CM.

I know I could have cut this down significantly, but I seem to enjoy in-depth descriptions. People who have read my first big CM fan story know that I love "setting the stage." Enjoy and be patient.

Quick Update: I am re-reading this broad daylight and can see all the missing words. Sorry.

Trivia Quest: What do the names of the new character and the apartment complex have in common?

Reviews are welcome and encouraged as always.

Chapter 2:

"Explain to me again why I am not at the station working on a geographic profile?" Reid asked as the Hotch drove him, J.J. and Morgan to the Harris Luxury Apartment Complex.

"There isn't much of a geographic profile to work on as the boys were abducted from different locations," Hotch said. "Where the boy's body was found leaves no clue as to what might be his comfort zone. We need to analyze how the last boy was abducted and get some perspective on why he was chosen."

Reid nodded and returned to flipping through the file. Morgan was watching him intently. "Reid are you sure you're up for this?"

Reid threw him a look of irritation. "The guy bullied me in high school. But he wasn't the leader of the pack. In his mind it was just good fun. He probably compartmentalized what he did to me as part of the development of his aggressive personality. He eventually learned to channel this kind of energy into something less physical and helped him become the high-powered C.E.O of one of the most profitable sports betting operations in Vegas."

J.J. looked into the rear-view mirror to look at Reid. "You know he can't hurt you anymore," she said.

Reid slapped his hand against the window. "Will you all please just stop?" he angrily. "I'm not afraid of this guy! I told you about my past experience with him to help explain how he might have picked up a few enemies. I'm just not crazy about facing someone I have tried to forget about which I can't given my eidetic memory," he said with a sudden laugh of frustration.

"Reid if you didn't want to be on this case you should have said so back at Quantico," Hotch said seriously. "I could have found-"

"No its okay Hotch," Reid said apologetically. "This is my home town and I know it better than anyone else. I couldn't just sit this one out based on what happened more than fifteen years ago."

Reid looked out the window. "Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin."

"Where's that from genius?" Morgan asked.

"Barbara Kingsolver. Not an author I'd usually read. But Garcia swore she'd try to read Dune if I read Animal Dreams."

The whole team shared a brief moment of laughter. Their young genius agent had failed to recognize that he had been conned.

…

"Mr. and Mrs. Davis I need you to calm down," Sherriff Jeff Pross said.

I pace around the dining room. I couldn't remember the last time I wanted to break something so badly. "How can I be calm when my son is out there!" I shouted.

Sally was hovering around the detective playing with the strange large square console thing that would track would trace where the kidnapper was calling from. "Are you sure that thing is set up properly? It's eight o'clock and they still haven't called."

The detective seated at the table kept his eyes on the console. "Ma'am for the fourth time, everything is in working order," he said with a harsh edge to his voice.

This only infuriates me even more. I walk over and slam my right hand on the table. "Show some respect! The last boy was found strangled and beaten on the beach of Lake Mead when the kidnappers couldn't get a hold of the parents. That can't happen here!"

The detective looked at Pross, exhausted, frustrated, and I didn't care. Suddenly Pross' phone beeped. "Thank God," he muttered and walked to the door. Sally and I followed him and we heard a knocking sound on the door. The sheriff opened the door.

A man in a suit holding his FBI credentials up appeared. "Sheriff Pross my name is Special Supervisory Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner."

"Welcome," Pross said with a visible look of relief on his face. He beckoned me and Sally forward. "Mr. and Mrs. Davis, these are the FBI agents I called in to consult on the case."

Hotchner stepped out of the way and a blond woman appeared. "This Special Agent Jennifer Jareau." She greeted us warmly and shook both our hands. "I promise we're doing everything we can to help bring Tyler home safely."

Sally was instantly drawn to this woman who had shown the first sign of gentle concern we had encountered. She put an arm around my wife's sagging shoulders. "Let's go sit down and discuss some of Tyler's favorite things to do." Sally nodded and walked with her to the living room.

Pross looked out the door. "I was expecting more of you," he said.

"We have an agent going over the building layout right now and will be checking in soon. There is one on the ground helping with the canvassing and another talking with the parents of the other the boy at the police station." Agent Hotchner also stared at door. "The agent in charge of profiling Tyler's room should be here-"

There was the sound of hurried footsteps. "Sorry, I got lost," the scrawny young man with a messenger bag slung around his shoulders said as he rushed in.

His appearance slowly sunk in. His hair was shorter but there was still a slight wave to it. I never thought he'd be so tall. He looked liked a nerd with this brown sweater vest over a crooked a red tie. Memories flashed through my mind. Pulling books out his tiny hands and tossing them in the trash. Shoving his head into a toilet. Pouring soda onto his pants. Shoving-

"This is Dr. Reid," Aaron Hotchner said. But I was barely listening as my knees began to wobble. Spencer locked eyes with me. I saw no fear or desperation. It was a shock to my system. His face changed. His hair was longer. His eyes widened in terror as Niles and I hoisted him up the flag pole. His hair turned blond.

I took a few blind steps forward and fell to my knees. I broke down and sobbed.

"Oh God Spency! I'm so sorry!" I shouted and fell backwards.


	3. Chapter 3

I am so glad to see some of my regular reviewers!

How do I end up writing such long chapters? I have had another long day and I have a feeling I'm going to cringe at the amount of missing words when I look at this thing in the morning.

(Quick non-story related comment: After watching the ending of the latest episode I have semi-officially become a Morgan/Garcia shipper. I want someone to travel across the country to remind me how good a person I am!) On a similar note I feel I should mention that there will be no shipping in this story. I just got sappy sentimental at the end.

Reviews are welcome and encouraged as always.

Chapter 3:

The guy called Aaron Hotchner grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me upright. He leans down and gets on my level. "Mr. Davis, I need you to calm down. Dr. Reid is here to help-"

"How could he want to help me?" I cry. "What I did to him was practically molestation! I took his clothes-"

"That's enough Mike!" I look up and see Spencer standing down at me. The look of determination on his face finally begins to register.

"Spence, why would you want to help me? Our last encounter involved me ripping your graduation-"

"Mike, stop it!" he yelled. I began to cry harder. I heard him let out a sigh of frustration. "Hotch I think Mr. Davis might be able to help me analyze Tyler's room. Can you help me get him up?"

Hotchner exchanged a look with Spencer and then nodded. "Mr. Davis, Tyler needs you. Your insight in to what Tyler might have been doing when he was abducted might help Dr. Reid determine the personality of the kidnapper. Can you do that?"

"Okay," I say weakly as I shakily stand up. I see Sally staring at me, looking confused. Jareau blocks her view of me.

"Come on Mike," Spencer says authoritatively. "Show me Tyler's room."

…

"Sit down Mike," Spencer says as he closes Tyler's door behind us. I'm still sniffling as I sink into the baseball-shaped swivel chair in front of Tyler's desk.

Spencer gets down on his haunches and stares me straight in the eye. "I need you to snap out of it," he said angrily.

I had never seen this side of Spencer Reid. I never thought he could become capable of speaking with such authority. "Snap of out of what Spencer? The feeling of guilt over what I did to you hasn't stopped haunting me since Sally became pregnant with Tyler. I don't want my son to become someone who thinks spray-painting a kid's-"

"This is where you need to stop!" Spencer shouted. Then he spoke in a quieter voice. "I told my team that you bullied me in high school but I never gave specific details. I would really like you to stop painting pictures of my worst childhood experiences for them."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I whimper. I didn't realize I was still hurting him.

Spencer suddenly grips the edge of the chair. "Mike, a few years ago I let what you and your friends did to me cloud my judgment while on a case. I acted so recklessly I nearly lost my job. I swore on that day to never let what happened at Las Vegas High affect my ability to do my job. I intend to continue to keep that vow by helping to rescue your son!"

I just stare at Spencer. Who was this guy? He looked like a taller version of the kid I knew in school but everything else seems to have changed.

"Mike," his voice softened. "You have a son. And a fairly happy one it appears," he says as he glances around the room. "No matter how much I hate what you did to me, I cannot hate the fact that you are a father who has created a stable family environment. Let's let go of the past and focus on what's important okay?"

I couldn't help but wonder where Spencer learned to forgive. I can still bench-press 170 pounds on a weekly basis but Spencer Reid was stronger than me by every other measure. My breathing become more regular. "Okay Spencer," I said.

He begins to walk around the room. I couldn't help but feel a little proud of my Sally as she was the one who designed the room. Half of the blue walls are lined with square maple-wood shelving. Reid looked into the various little cubby-holes. "He loves baseball," Spencer remarked as he carefully pulled out a Las Vegas 51's cap.

"Yeah, I tried to get him into football but he seems to just love the pace of the baseball. He was the one to wake me and Sally up when the last 51's game went into extra innings."

He picks up a book from another shelf. "Mike Lupica's Heat seems a little advanced for someone his age."

"Well he has always been a couple reading levels above his class," I said.

Spencer suddenly grabs a photo of Tyler. It is the one with me and Sally standing behind Tyler on the pitcher's mound at L.A. Dodger's stadium. The cap couldn't conceal the blond hair streaming part-way down his neck. The heart of my nightmares begins to dawn on him. "I remind him of you don't I?"

I begin to tear up again. "His hair grows so fast it seems like Sally has to take him once month to have it trimmed. He looks so angelic in that photo. I don't want to think of how perverts must look-"

"Then don't," Spencer said suddenly. He opens his bag and pulls out file. "Let's go over what happened last night."

He takes a couple steps towards me. "When you came home you found the baby-sitter unconscious on the couch in the family room. The doctor's determined she had been knocked out with dose of chloroform injected into an artery in the neck."

"When we saw her we were convinced she was dead. We then rushed-"

"When the baby-sitter woke up she informed the detectives that she had put Tyler to bed early at eight-thirty. She said he was tuckered out after baseball practice." He looks up at me. "The thing is that it makes no sense."

This shocked me. "Are you saying Jane might have been involved in Tyler's kidnapping?"

"No. Not that part. It's the fact that a twelve-year-old would be ready to fall asleep that early on a Friday night."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Spencer returned to flipping through the folder. "Jane Barron is the sixteen-year-old daughter of Sally's assistant at her clothing boutique. She baby-sat for you guys before and has proven to be very trust-worthy. But she is still a teenage girl from a comparatively lower-income family."

"The TV was on HBO when you got home. The viewing schedule indicates there was a Game of Thrones marathon during the time of the abduction."

Spencer looked up again. "My guess is that Jane told Tyler to go to bed early so that she could enjoy the watching the show on your three-foot flat screen. By all accounts Tyler was a good kid who liked Jane and was willing do anything to make sure she had some fun on her Friday night. Even if it involved staying in his room while still wide-awake."

Now this was starting to sound like the Spencer Reid I knew. He was always thinking ten steps ahead of everyone in the class. "What are you getting at Spencer?" I asked.

Spencer glanced at the desk. "You don't let him have a computer?"

"No, we keep a password-protected one in the kitchen. My wife's idea," I quickly added to make sure I wasn't sounding like Father of the Year material.

"So what did he do to occupy his time before he fell asleep?"

That was an easy one. "He read."

Spencer walked to the side of the bed where the bed side table and crouched down. He looks at the lamp with 51 insignia on the shade. "The police reported said that you found this on when you came into the room. So where is the book he was reading?" He begins to look under the bed. I let his observation sink in. I would have never thought a detail like that would have been worth noting.

"So the kidnapper allowed Tyler to take his book with him!" I said with a note of triumph.

For the first time a flicker of a smile appears on Spencer's face. "Exactly. This reveals that the UnSub- kidnapper is capable of empathy. It also indicates that there is a chance that Tyler is being held in a place with enough visible light to allow him to read."

I was willing to take any small victory I could get at this point. "So he isn't being held in the dark completely! Spencer that is incredible!" I rush over to him with my arms open and Spencer backs away. "Please don't," he said not out fear, but discomfort. We let the moment go.

I rush to do the door. "I can't wait to tell Sally!"

"Not yet Mike," Spencer said. He is looking at the shelves where book were kept. "Do you know what he might have been reading?"

I take a few steps back, feeling a little exasperated. "Not off the top of my head. Why might that be important?"

Spencer is seems to ignore me "Tyler is a meticulous organizer. There would be an open space from he had pulled out one his own books."

I was frustrated and exhausted. I was desperate to provide Sally with a ray of hope. "I do remember Mrs. McCray threatening to put you in detention when you refused to give the answer to the equation on the board after you explained a third method of solving it."

"I didn't want to go over the answers to last night's homework. I felt like having some fun in that class for once," he said absent-mindedly. He suddenly rushed to Tyler's backpack. "It must have been a library book!"

"Spencer," I said wearily. "Give me a break."

He pulled out a stack of books with clear covers on them. He put the pile on the bed and began to flip through the rapidly. "Speed-reading?" I asked, not really caring about the answer.

"I'm not that fast," he said as he grabbed the third book. Half-way through a smile appeared on his face. He pulled a strip of paper. "This is the list of books he had checked out!" He began to read it.

"So what book was he reading?" I said, humoring him. I suddenly realized how much I didn't sound like the Mike Davis Spencer knew. I was sounding like a guy who didn't enjoy being out of the loop. Tyler would say that I was acting like Watson if he were here. I felt a sudden twinge of guilt for not worrying about him.

"Mike, he checked all these books out at a branch in Henderson," Spencer said, interrupting my thoughts of self-pity. "Why was he in that section of town the city three weeks ago?"

I racked my brain. It suddenly came to me. "Tyler had a friend whose older brother was a novice magician! His first solo performance was at the Martin Line-somethine,"

"The Martin Linel Vegas Library. I've been there a few times."

Then it hit me. The method to Spencer Reid's "madness" revealed:

"Wasn't that where the other boy grew up? So that is the place where the kidnapper noticed Tyler. Now we have a lead!"

"I have a lead to present to my team," Spencer said with his eyes focused on the due slip. His voiced sounded noncommittal. He wasn't telling me everything.

"Spencer what else is there?"

He looked up at me with a gentle expression on his face. "Mike you have been a tremendous help. I'm not sure I could have done all of this half as quickly alone. I really hate asking you to do this: You can tell your wife about the fact that the kidnapper let Tyler take a book with him, but I need you to not tell her about the library. I'm not sure how exactly the library angle fits in for a number of reasons I am not ready to discuss."

I looked at him uncertainly. "Are you asking me to lie to my wife?"

"No, not in the sense you're thinking of. I'm asking to not give your wife something else to trouble her mind with that can't be supported with solid information."

He took a step towards me. "Please trust me Mike," he said softly.

I nodded my head. The realization that the kid I terrorized was actually trying to comfort me was overwhelming me again. I began to feel unsteady.

Spencer picked up on it immediately. "Mike go be with your wife. By my rough calculations, the ransom call should be coming within the next hour. I need to meet with my team." We walked to the door.

Hotchner was flipping through his tablet in the hallway. He looked up at me with stern a look on his face. "Agent Jareau made tea and your wife pulled out some scones."

I crack a small smile. "I knew she had hidden the last of Jacques Torres' pastries on me."

He looks at me for the briefest moment. I think he actually wanted to know how I made contact with the famous French chef. He then nods his head. I take the hint to move on as he goes into meet Spencer.

…

Hotch found Reid standing over the bed with the files scattered between the library books. Reid looks up when Hotch enters. "I have found a few things. But I'm not sure how they all fit exactly."

"I have no doubt that what you found will make perfect sense with the assistance of the team. And that it is all valuable." Hotch said. "What impresses me more is how Mike Davis' mental state had changed since the last time I saw him. I admire and commend you for facing your nightmare alone."

Reid looked uncomfortable. He wasn't used to receiving so many compliments from Hotch in one conversation. "Hotch I was just doing my job. We needed to improve Mike's mental condition in order for him to help us rescue his son."

"You know that was much harder than you made it sound," he said and took a step forward. He looked Spencer straight in the eye.

"Reid I'm not sure if I have ever said so in these exact words: I'm proud of you. I'm proud of how you have grown. You are no longer just 'the kid' with all the answers. You are the agent I can depend on to gain insight and information from people in ways that none of the other agents aren't capable of. I am truly proud of you Spencer."

Reid and Hotch stared at each other for a moment and then simultaneously looked away. They realized how they were both on the verge of letting out too much emotion.

Suddenly the radio on Hotch's belt crackled. "Hey Hotch, I don't remember you ever saying how proud you are of me," Morgan said.

Reid's cheeks turned red and Hotch muttered something about no realizing the radio was still on. The radio crackled again. "Now kids, Dad loves you all equally," Rossi said.

Hotch returned to administrative mode. "Rossi has canvassing turned up anything?"

"Nada. I told you it was pointless."

"We can discuss that later. Morgan have you completed your navigation through the building?"

"Almost."

"Then let's meet in the Jeff Davis' study in twenty minutes. J.J. learned a few interesting things from Mrs. Davis and Reid seems to have had a very productive meeting with Mr. Davis."

"The whiz kid never disappoints," Rossi said.

"I love you too Rossi."


	4. Chapter 4

Okay this should be fun. First, reasons for my recent and lengthy hiatus: Act II problems that will not be completed to my satisfaction, but I feel compelled to get the chapter up for a number of different reasons. And: ACCEPTANCE TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF LIBRARY INFORMATION SCIENCE! So there has been a lot my mind. With a tremendous tip of my hat to vixen-of-the-roses I will fix the Las Vegas geography errors soon. I am just going to try to be accurate in this entry tonight. And as always: I am a writing creature of the night who will wake up, go to work in the morning on auto-pilot, then reread this entry in broad daylight and wonder HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED SO MANY WORDS!

And I will be teetering on the edge of M material, but it serves a purpose.

I could end the story after this entry in terms of plot, but I have more to address in terms of theme and character growth. Update as of 4/21: A family emergency came up today so I am not able write Chapter 5 tonight and have it available by Sunday morning. Thanks for being patient and enjoy.

Reviews are welcome and encouraged as always.

Chapter 4:

It turns out what the UnSub (the term the FBI uses to describe creeps such as kidnappers), wanted all along was me. He gave the directions to a vacant house in the mostly abandoned housing section on Balzar Avenue. Spencer and the rest of the agents determined that the best course of action would be to do as asked while the house is covered with cops and agents.

"I can't believe Phil is responsible for all of this," I said while the lead agent drove to the location. "I barely noticed the kid when we went to school together." I tugged at the bullet-proof vest they insisted I wear. It felt like a straight jacket.

Spencer was sitting across from me looking through the file. "Phillip Jones was in the Honor Society, something I couldn't get into as I wasn't involved in enough extracurricular activities," he said bitterly. "He was also one of the fasted long distance runners on the track team. This basically means he was protected by two of the dominant groups in the social hierarchy. His presence didn't arouse your team's aggressive instincts Mike."

"What about you Reid?" the agent called Rossi asked from the front seat. "What do you remember about him?"

Spencer looked up for a moment. "He wasn't someone to draw attention to himself. I wasn't either, but that couldn't be helped. He did what was necessary to stand out as a scholarship candidate in order to get into Berkley where believed his life would really begin."

"So how did he become a murdering scumbag?" I asked angrily.

Reid returned to the file. "His mother died when he was twelve and his father was the events manager at the Montecito, a stressful job with erratic hours. This suggests he raised himself since the onset of puberty. He was caught smoking marijuana in college and got into a few minor fights. But in the end he became a tech installation supervisor for one of the largest national security firms in the in the country."

"A job like that involves a lot of traveling and also suggests that he is capable of hiding his tracks extremely well. Which means there could be more deaths connected to him," Rossi said.

"That's what worries me," Hotchner said. "Returning to Vegas suggests that this might be his end-game." He glances over at me "You are going to be surrounded agents at all times and there will be no deviation from our course of action. Do you understand Mr. Davis?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "I just want to get my son back." I look at Spencer and there is a worried look on his face that I hadn't seen before. "What's on your mind Spence?"

He leans forward and holds his chin on his hands. "Something feels off. Adolescent bystander's guilt hasn't been studied enough to predict adult behavior." He glances out the window. "I have a feeling he has a more elaborate plan in place that we aren't prepared for."

"Reid we need to stick to the plan we've developed," Hotch said authoritatively. "If you think of a better course of action you clear it with me first. Understood?"

I got the sense that this conversation has happened before. Reid nodded. "I won't screw this up Hotch." He looked at me with clear focus. "I won't do anything to further risk the life of Tyler."

"I trust you Spence," I said, resisting the urge to pat him on the back assuredly.

…

It was early evening when we arrived. I had never seen so many different cop vehicles in my life. We got out and Hotchner approached the SWAT commander. "Do we have a visual?"

"No sir," he said and pointed the covered windows. "The guy covered the windows with lead-lined material."

"What about communication?"

"He appears to have speakers on the garage and above the front door."

Hotchner looked to me. "We have Agents Prentiss and Morgan covering the back. Agent Rossi and Dr. Reid will be covering you if he asks for you enter. I'll be the lead negotiator. Understood?"

Everyone nods. Rossi and Spencer pull out their guns. Spencer's is small and kind of strange looking with its wood varnish. But then again, I don't know much about guns and the sight of Spencer holding something capable of killing people is just unsettling.

"Attention FBI and all other law enforcement agents," a reedy voice says through the speakers. "I have no interest in harming Tyler Davis. Let Agent Reid escort Mike Davis through the front door and I will let everyone come out alive. I am well aware of the fact that my residence is surrounded by armed cops and FBI agents. But I am currently I holding a gun to Tyler's head and any attempts to apprehend me through invading my home will result in a fatal outcome."

"What guarantee do we have that you won't kill the boy if even we do comply?" Hotchner said through a radio.

"I am sure you have profiled to me the best of your abilities Agent Hotchner," Phil said haughtily. "But I think you have failed to take into consideration my understanding of Spencer Reid. If you did, you would know that I will not let a man with his talents leave this situation damaged. Something you failed to do on several occasions," he added with a note of menace.

The guy who was Spencer's boss and ultimately responsible for his team's safety, blinked. "I want Mr. Davis to emerge from this house with you in the custody of Dr. Reid at the end of ten minutes. Hold them for a second further or if I hear the slightest sound of distress, you have my complete assurance that you will die in a hail of bullets. Do we have an agreement?"

"You have my word Agent Hotchner. I am giving you two minutes to get Dr. Reid and Mr. Davis on my door step."

"Hotch we are taking a huge risk here," Rossi said. "This guy might just shoot Davis and Reid the minute they walk through the door."

Hotchner was watching the door. "We don't have any better options Dave. Stay out of sight and cover them."

Hotchner turned to Reid. "Reid, any thoughts?"

I could tell that a million thoughts were going through Spencer's head. "I think my best option is try to talk him out of whatever he might be planning," he said.

"We're down to a minute folks," Rossi said and began to take his position. Hotchner nodded at Spencer and me. "Run."

Spencer held his gun low and we ran to the door. Once we reached the step, Phil said: "Dr. Reid open the door as narrowly as possible with just enough space to allow for you and the still-hulking Mike Davis to enter."

…

We found ourselves in a spacious front hall area. It opened up to the left to what must have been a family room. Every inch of the house had been stripped of appliances and floor covering. The kitchen was straight ahead of us. This is where Phil Jones was standing with a Glock held to my son's head.

"Tyler," I gasped and began approach my sniffling son.

"Take another step forward Mike and yours son's brain matter will be splattered across your face," Phil said and pushed the further in my son's head.

Phil had changed a great deal since the last time I saw him. His dark blondish hair curly hair was now straight and auburn. He had a narrow mustache that gave him the look of a movie villain. He was wearing a gray a sweater over loose jeans. He matched the description of the guy who had started to read the newspaper next the window of the coffee shop that faced the Martin Linel Library a little more than a month ago.

"Okay Phil," Reid said calmly. "You have us here as you asked. Now tell us what you want."

"Retribution Spencer," he said evenly and then said suddenly: "Hold your gun to Mike's head."

Spencer looked shocked. Phil jabbed my son's head and he squeaked. "Now!"

Spencer shakily complied. I felt the cold metal barrel against my left temple. I shivered.

"How does it feel Mike?" Phil asked tauntingly. "To have your life in danger. To be afraid of what someone might do to you."

"Phil I won't kill Mike," Spencer said.

"You would choose to save the life of a man who spent his whole life bullying, abusing, and manipulating other people over that of a child who has tremendous potential?"

"How do I know you won't just kill Tyler afterwards?"

"I am doing Tyler a noble favor. He may be traumatized for a period of time after these events. But his mother seems mildly intelligent despite her naiveté, will most likely ensure that he sees the best therapists available. In the end he will be free of the influence of a man who committed unspeakable acts of bullying."

"Dad," Tyler whimpered. "What's going on?"

I didn't know what to say to my son. He didn't belong here. The worst thing that had ever happened to him up until this point was having ended up with me for a father.

"Phil," Spencer said suddenly. "I only remember parts of what he did to me. I thought they were mostly nightmares. I never remembered enough about him to want to kill him."

This was strange. Spencer seemed to remember everything I did to him. He was playing an angle.

Spencer looked to Phil desperately. "Please Phil. I can't just kill this man in cold blood. I have been blocking most of the memories for so long. You seem to be the only one knows about all of Mike atrocities and I won't be able to learn them after you are taken into custody. Just tell me what he did to me!"

I am not the brightest guy in the world by any stretch of the imagination. But hanging around Spencer for most of the day has taught me a little bit about how to look at things differently. I trusted Spencer as much as I didn't like where this might be going. I looked straight at Tyler and made a subtle hand motion.

Phil sighed. "You really don't remember?"

Spencer nodded his head his adamantly.

"Well he started off small since he was a freshman football player. He slammed you into walls whenever he happened to walking in the same direction as you. He threw your books into the garbage. Then to help as part of the team initiation, Nick Niles threw you into the dumpster and Mike slammed the lid shut."

Spencer's eyes widened. "So that is why I'm afraid of the dark!"

"In the end Mike was always Nick's goon. Don't worry, Nick got what his deserved. I found the prick drinking buying drinks for girls out of his league at a club in Miami. I paid a girl to slip something and lead him onto the beach. I stabbed him to death and threw him in a dumpster!" He said with a slight grin.

Spencer began to blink rapidly. "What else? I can feel there's more."

"You really want to know the most heinous thing he did?" He felt genuine sorrow for Spencer.

Spencer's breathing became uneven. "I'm starting to feel sensations on my back. Tell me!"

"Nick got Alexa Lisbon in on the act and lured you to the south goal post. Mike was the one to hold you down as Nick pulled your pants-"

"Ahh!" Spencer moaned. Tears began to stream his face down. "They stood around and laughed at me as I hung there, naked!"

I was too terrified to look at Tyler's faced. I glared at Phil instead. "How do you even know about that Phil? I don't remember seeing you there."

Phil rolled his eyes with disbelief. "People talk you imbecile! Joey Sands, the stoner slash president of the Honor Society was the one brought the booze!"

Spencer whole body was shaking he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Oh no Phil, there's more! I remember Mike looking at me strangely as I was hanging there. The next day he shoved me into a bathroom. First it was just the usual swirly. But, but" he stammered. "Then he kept holding my head there with one hand. And then with his other hand, he began to pull my pants down-" Spencer stepped back and began to sob hysterically.

"You bastard!" Phil screamed and aimed his gun at me. A shot went off.

…

I found myself on the ground covered in some sort of ruble. I was coughing hard as I looked around and was stunned by what I saw.

The guy called Agent Morgan was pinning Phil to the ground. The gun was few feet away. My best guess based off the cop shows I'd watched was that the agent had grabbed Phil from behind and forced his shot into the rotting ceiling.

But what shocked me even more was the sight of Reid with my son. He had pulled off vest and dress shirt and was wiping Tyler's face with the clean sections.

"It's okay Tyler," he said gently. "I lied. I lied about everything. The guy who took you lied too. Phil didn't like your Dad because he dated the girl he had had a crush on for years."

Tyler nodded. "I know. Dad gave me the bunting signal." He proceeded to demonstrate the hand motion pitchers use show the error he made was on purpose.

Spencer smiled. "Wow! I totally missed that. I think the FBI should learn a few of those signs."

Tyler beamed. The look of joy on my son's face shocked me into action. I rushed to him. "Tyler!" I yelled as I threw my arms around him and lifted him up.

"Dad!" his muffled voiced said. "You're crushing me!"

I loosened my grip on him and looked at his face. "I swear I'll never let you go!"

"I know," he nuzzled in my shoulder and sniffled. "I love you."

I have always loved hearing that sentence. But I don't think I ever loved those words as much as I did at that moment.

"Guys there's an ambulance waiting outside," Spencer said softly. "You two really need to be checked out and your mom is waiting there."

I turned and looked at Spencer. Words failed me. The last part about the toilet scene was a complete lie. But everything else, every awful thing I had ever done to him now appeared false in the eyes of my son.

Spencer gave me look of kind assurance. "Go on Mike. Take care of your son."

I walked through the door as cops poured in.

"Bye Spence!" Tyler shouted brightly. As I carried him to the waiting ambulance truck and my sobbing wife, Tyler said: "Dad you have some really cool friends."

…

Reid stood on the step outside, wiping his brow with a wet cloth. He watched the family reunion taking place several feet away from him.

Morgan appeared wiping his arms with a rag. "So you really let that kid believe his dad wasn't bullying jerk?"

Reid kept staring out into the distance. "I trust that Mike will find a way to tell him about his past when the time is right."

"Did that guy really-"

"No Morgan!" Spencer said with a note of frustration. "I needed to come up with something that would make Jones completely snap."

He returned to staring into the darkening skies. "Though after the goal post incident, part of me always feared something like that might happen," he said with a slight quiver in his voice.

Morgan decided to change the subject. "That was quite a show you put on. It was practically stage-worthy. Where'd you learn to act like that Reid?"

"Swapping book bets isn't the only thing Garcia and I have been doing together lately," Reid said with a secretive smile. He walked away from a dumbfounded Morgan.

Prentiss appeared at the doorway. "And I thought I was the BAU agent with the most secrets."


	5. Chapter 5

To address a few comments: Up until the last part, the whole chapter was written from Mike's point of view. I remember more cases where Hotch is featured in leading negotiations compared to Rossi. I know there should have been more plot development before the climax. The thing is I am not comfortable enough with writing the detective elements of this show. I'm afraid of screwing up the technical terms and hate the idea of "dumbing it down," too much as this drives me crazy when I read crime show fan fiction. I may fix this in the future. But honestly, figuring out the middle of this story has been driving me crazy all week. It is time to put the story that I am the most proud of conceptually to bed.

At the end of this story there will be a plug for a writer who will be publishing a very interesting story in the future. There is also a lengthy personal commentary piece on the subject of bullying.

The name of the location featured in this chapter is fake (would someone please take a stab at guessing where it might be from?), but the other official names I provid are very real.

Review are welcome and encouraged as always.

Chapter 5:

"Come on Dad. Throw the next one higher! You know I can catch it!"

I smiled as I watched Tyler arrange the ball in his glove to set up his next slider. It was a gorgeous day in Andrews Park. It had been three days since his abduction and he was growing restless in the apartment as we wouldn't let him go back to school until the start of next week. I decided that eleven o'clock on a Wednesday was safe enough and made sure that we were playing on the highest hill in the park from where I could see everything.

I noticed a tall thin figure approaching the base of the hill. Tyler's ball bounced off my stomach as I watched Spencer Reid walk up with the hill with his messenger bag slung across his shoulders.

Tyler turned to see what I was looking at. "Spencer!" he shouted delightedly and ran down to greet him.

"Hey, Tyler," Spencer said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

Tyler looked his wrists. "These bandages feel weird but the doctor said they can come off soon. I can still throw a wicked slider!" he said.

"That's great!"Spencer said and then looked up at me. "I called your office and they told me this is where I'd find you."

Tyler saw the ball rolling down the hill and picked up it up. "Do you want to see my cut fastball?" he asked Spencer.

"Maybe you can show me later," Spencer said. "But I need to talk to your dad about something first."

I nodded. "Tyler why don't you go help Mom prepare lunch?"

Tyler sighed. "Is that adult code for 'scram?'"

Spencer smiled. "A more accurate interpretation would be: "we believe that it is in your best interests for you to leave while we discuss something that you would consider very boring,'" Spencer said.

Tyler looked to me. "Does he always talk like that?"

I chuckled and then said: "Never known him not to. It's why he always did better than me in English class. Now go do 'what we think is in…' blah. Scram buddy!"

Tyler groaned and walked down to the picnic pavilion where Sally was spreading out a table-cloth.

"How do not I screw him up?" I said as I watched him open the picnic basket.

"You've been doing a great job raising him so far," Spencer said.

I turned to him. I didn't him see him again after I left the house with Tyler. Standing there, he looked happy and relaxed. A pair of words I would never use to describe his appearance whenever he was around me seventeen years ago. He also looked a little less dorky in black pants and a light-blue dress shirt. I was beyond grateful to see him and tell him what I couldn't properly say in the heat of my son's abduction.

"Spencer I'm sorry," I said simply and with conviction. "I am truly sorry for all of the horrible things I did to you."

Spencer nodded. "I know you are Mike. Thank you. And while I accept you apology, I am not ready to forgive you."

I was confused and felt the slightest bit hurt. "I don't understand. What can I do to earn your forgiveness?"

"The root word of forgiveness is forgive. In the English World Dictionary it is defined four ways: '1. To cease to blame or hold resentment against someone or something 2. To grant pardon for a mistake, wrongdoing, etc 3. To free or pardon someone from penalty 4. To free from the obligation of a debt, payment, etc.' Mike I am no longer angry at you about what happened. But I don't think my forgiveness would be enough to ease your guilt in the long run."

I suddenly remember my wrist hurting after I pulled an extremely large book out of his hands and nearly missed when I tossed it out the window. I realized it was probably a dictionary. Only he would split hairs over the different meanings of a word.

"Okay, so what do I need?"

"Mike do you know what palliation means?"

"Isn't it some sort of medical term?"

"Yes, it is more commonly used to describe a form of medical treatment. The root word is palliate. The definition is: '1. To lessen the severity of (pain, disease, etc) without curing or removing; alleviate; mitigate 2. To cause (an offence) to seem less serious by concealing evidence; extenuate.' Mike I can't stop you from feeling guilty through forgiveness but I can help by giving advice and suggestions for how to begin the process of palliation."

He opened his bag and began to pull some folders out. "I have been doing some research and learned that there is not nearly enough data on what happens to adolescents defined as bullies after they become adults. The most commonly high-lighted statistic is that one out of every four bullies serves jail time before they turn twenty-five."

"Well," I said sheepishly, "I have slept off a few hang-over in the drunk tank after getting into bar fights when I couldn't find work after college."

"But the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence as you were always part of a mob. You did not serve what would be defined as a prison sentence. That statistic is used in the 'Why prevention of bullying matters' on the Pacer Center's Teens Against Bullying website to describe what might happen to bullies if they aren't stopped. I think you could provide a few lines to that description." He handed me the folders.

I flipped through the folders and noticed the different headings. I shook my head. This seemed like too much. "I'm not sure I'm ready to tell the world I was a bully. And how could my little 'testimonial,' help anyway?"

Spencer took a step towards me. "Mike hiding from the shadows of your past has been eating you alive for years. Your guilt has become pain and one of the best ways to deal with it through sharing your experiences with other people. I know this from personal experience," he said and face turned grim.

I had a feeling he was on the verge of telling me something extremely personal to drive home his point. I couldn't let him do that. "So where would I begin?" I asked quickly.

His face lightened up. "There are a few options. The first folder has information on where to post testimonial information. The second contains the thesis statements for ongoing university research studies on bullies and the behavioral history of men who run successful businesses. The third contains a list of credible non-profit organizations that develop anti-bullying programs in schools that lack funding. appears to be one of the more well-established organizations."

"What about a folder on 'how to make sure your kid doesn't become you when he starts high school?'"

"That is something I think you need figure out with your wife."

I resisted the urge tear up at the mention of my wife. "After we put Tyler to bed I told Sally everything. I was expecting her to scream, to hit me, to throw me out of the house. But she didn't. Instead she hugged me. She said that my reaction to you showed that I was indeed the man she married. That I am capable of learning from my mistakes and becoming a better person. A trait that she thinks is necessary for our marriage to last as we grow older." I glanced down at my wife. "I am one lucky man."

Spencer laughed. "You always got the best girls Mike."

The sound of a loud clown nose honking filled the air. A woman on a bike covered in purple streamers rode to the pavilion. "Aunt Lexie!" Tyler shouted and ran to greet his aunt.

I laughed. "My sister in law does know how to make an entrance."

Spencer looked confused as he watched her take off her helmet, revealing her short spiky hair that was half pink and half purple that strangely matched her paint-spattered navy jeans and pink tunic. "But your wife is an only child and you have an older sister-"

"Well not in legal terms in the State of Nevada. But Tess and Lexie have their marriage certificate from the state New York hanging on their bedroom wall next to a photo of them in their wedding dresses at the base of Niagara Falls."

Spencer shook his head in disbelief. "Alexa Lisbon. I had heard rumors that she had kissed every guy on the foot ball team."

"Only the starting line-up," I said trying not to sound too delighted in knowing something that Spencer didn't. "She met my sister during a GLAAD rally at UNLV when she was a freshman and Tess was a junior. It turns out Alexa hated the way she found herself noticing other girls at the end of grade school. She worked insanely hard to fight these feelings and creating the opposite image by dating as many guys as possible. Lex or Lexie, as she like to be called these days, said that she was on the verge of committing suicide when she came across that rally and bumped into my sister."

Spencer stood there watching Lexie juggle plates. "What does she think of me?"

"Why don't we go find out?" I said and began to walk down the hill. "Sally always packs too much food and you did say you wanted to see Tyler's cut fastball."

"Mike I'm not sure-"

I stopped. "Spence you did not have to come here to give me these folders. You could have emailed them or left them at my office. You did not have to do any of this. The more I think about it the more I think your helping me is part of your own 'palliation' for something."

Spence gave a small smile. "That is very perceptive Mike. The truth has to do with my-"

"Hey boys!" Lexie shouted. "Are you going to gab all day? I really hate Sally's pasta salad when it gets warm!"

I turned to Spencer. "Spence I knew you as a sniveling, know-it-all, child who was considered the basketball team's magic eight ball. I think I'd like to learn more about the bad-guy chasing man you've become."

Spencer took a few steps forward. "You know, this goes against the findings of every research survey conducted-"

"Wow Tyler said you still talked like a walking encyclopedia," Lexie said as she marched towards us. She suddenly reached over and touched Spencer's cheek. "I bet you still don't have to shave that often," she said as Spencer recoiled. I thought I was going to kill her.

She then pulled his head forward and kissed him on the lips. She gently pushed him back and smiled. "You weren't missing out on much Spence," she said kindly.

I still wanted to kill her. "Lex can you greet anyone without making a spectacle out of it?"

"Not a chance Mike; especially when some very thick ice needed to be broken."

Then Spencer began to laugh. It was a very strange sound. It was squeaky at first and then grew into hearty guffaw.

He looked at me and Lexie. "It is my job to study human behavior and I am very good at it. But I don't think I could have ever predicted the occurrence of this meeting! And I think that is truly fascinating."

I rolled my eyes. "So is that genius code for 'Yes I'll have lunch with you former bullies?"

Spencer nodded. "I guess. I have been reading about baseball and would like to see how a cut fast ball-"

Lexie threw her arms me and Spencer. "Come on Genius Hero and Repentant-Bully Dad. Let's take this show on the road."

The three of us walked down the hill together.

…

"One's friends are that part of the human race with which one can be human."

-George Santayanna

The End

Final Note from KESwriter:

The story: I know there are a few unanswered questions and strange transitions. This is the start of a very unusual friendship. And as in real life, you don't learn all of each other's secrets during the first encounter. I think a few people might be wondering about Spencer's ulterior motives. Think about the last time he returned home and what happened. Quick Confession: I renamed the story Palliation after finding so many stories with the word forgive in the title. I literally went to and chose the most interesting synonym. Personally I think it made the story twice as intriguing and it defines the theme of the story better.

The Plug: Anonymous Heavy on the Anon will be publishing a story soon about Spencer Reid meeting a bully from high school while working on a case. Anon was kind enough to inform me that he was planning on writing a similar story that he did NOT rip off from me, but still wanted my permission to publish. We both had similar ideas, I just happened to publish mine first. From his description, it appears that his story will have a more CM episode feel as the team will be looking at a series of crimes related to a nursery rhyme. The bully will be a little more active as he is the chief of police and his characterization is slightly different. There are going to be similarities, but I think in the end it will be very fun to read two interpretations of the same concept. The story has my blessing.

Personal Commentary on Bullying: I was bullied verbally relentlessly in grade school because I couldn't seem to make friends. Things got better in high school until senior year when I became a lone wolf in a very small school as the result of few misunderstandings.

So why was I bullied? Because I have a mild form of Aspergers. This also explains my fondness of Spencer Reid. But I am not a genius. I struggle with reading non-verbal signals, say the wrong things, and can't always tell when people are joking. As an adult I basically do what Spencer Reid appears to do on the show: I continue to live my life, learn how to fit in a little better (just look at how his wardrobe has changed since season 1), and avoid discussion of a personal idiosyncrasy that has a name that might alarm some people.

Each day 160,000 students stay at home in the US for fear of being bullied. There are no easy solutions. I know the story has a fairytale-like ending. But I do think it is plausible to some extent based on personal experience. I see a kid who was a bully in my grade school at mass regularly and we say hi occasionally. The girl who hated me in high school gave me a tip for a story that increased my assignment grade by twenty percent. People do change for the better in many cases. And that is really awesome


End file.
